


Dark

by Velvedere



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Flashbacks, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Trauma, a bit of PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:10:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7578907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velvedere/pseuds/Velvedere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro still has bad dreams about his time with the Galra.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark

Purple-red interior lighting. The same as all Galra ships. Fighters. Shuttles. Carriers. Transports.

Galra didn’t need a lot of light to see.

It was dark in the beginning. Always dark. Dark places. Dark lighting. Shiro spent a lot of time in the dark.

Until the Galra did…whatever it was they did to him. Then he could see.

Cramped interior of a shuttle. Shoved inside with a dozen other prisoners. No room to sit. All of them standing. Holding onto panels and overhead bars to keep upright when the shuttle jostles. Lands.

Bright light making them all flinch as the ramp lowers. They’re too used to the dark.

Marched outside. Lined up. Thace is there. So is Sendak. Arguing.

They argue a lot when Zarkon isn’t in earshot.

“…Vaanians are a warrior race…follow the lead of the superior combatant…”

“…could stand against us for decades…”

“…assure their compliance…agreed to single combat…”

“…waste of time and resources…”

Shiro separated from the rest. Led over to the commanders. They stop arguing and look at him.

Guards undo his shackles.

Sendak scowls. He doesn’t like compromise. Thace seems relieved.

“…agreed to surrender if they are defeated…” Thace explains. Takes off Shiro’s slave cowl. “…would save countless lives and pointless war…”

Sendak growls.

“Cowardice.”

Across the stretch of flat ground. His opponent. A whole planet subjugated in minutes if Shiro can defeat him.

There’s no question.

“No.”

Guards hit him.

Thace is reasonable. Explains it all so well.

Shiro shakes his head.

“No.”

Hit him again.

Sendak stands back and watches. Grins. Doesn’t do anything to stop the guards and their shockstaffs.

“Require more persuading?”

A gesture. The guards turn and focus their blasters on the other prisoners.

Shiro feels cold.

“Many lives. A few. Doesn’t matter.” Grins made of sharp teeth. “Galra will conquer.”

Then hot.

“No.”

Blasters charge.

_“No!”_

Pain.

Shiro launches at him. Goes for the neck. Weak point in their armor. Hot like electricity. Hot like hate. Hot like a weapon.

It hurts.

Doesn’t work. Stopped. Frozen by a remote controller.

“…really think you can attack your betters…?”

Hit again. Knocked to the ground. Shockstaffs. Fight, or die.

Fight, or die.

Fight, or _they_ die.

Shiro cries. He fights. He wins. Vaania surrenders.

Sendak guns down the prisoners anyway.

“Dead weight.”

Walks back to the ship. Guards holding Shiro back from tearing him apart. Shock and beat him until he’s unconscious.

“Sentimental.”

“Always weak…”

_“Vrepit sa.”_

*****

Shiro woke up in a cold sweat, catching his breath, holding it as he stared at the plain metal ceiling of his bunk.

Around him, the sounds and vibrations of the Altaen ship droned on deep into the simulated night. Oblivious sounds. Familiar. Everything normal. As it should be.

The pounding in his heart slowed.

He let out his breath and closed his eyes, raising one hand to push his hair back from his face. He froze, hesitating at the first brush of warm metal against his skin. He pulled back his hand and looked at it, able to just make out its smooth outline in the dim lighting.

He’d gotten so used to the prosthetic by now. Sometimes he managed to forget…

Something moved to one side.

Keith, bunked on the floor just beside Shiro’s bed. His hand came up over the edge, finding his hand – his real hand – and linking their fingers.

Shiro felt himself ease. He smiled a little, letting his arm drop down across his chest as he glanced aside, down at the dark shape.

“Sorry,” he breathed. “Bad dreams.”

Keith’s voice came muffled against his pillow.

“I know.”

“Why did you…?”

Keith squeezed his hand. He didn’t look up, keeping his face hidden down in the dark.

“Had a feeling.”

Shiro lay in his own bed for awhile longer, waiting until he’d calmed back to normal. Then he slipped out and joined Keith on the floor with the one pillow and blanket between them.

Shiro was used to sleeping on a hard floor.

He fell back to sleep, and rested more peacefully, his arm around Keith’s waist, back hugged up against his chest.


End file.
